


Summertime

by S_Faith



Series: My Own Little Sub-Universe [14]
Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-21
Updated: 2008-09-22
Packaged: 2019-03-18 04:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: Such a pivotal age, sixteen, and home for the summer from school…





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future-fic. Helps to have read "Thirteen Years" first. Also, this is kind of embarrassing to admit, but this was ready to post about a week and a half ago, but I got so caught up in the new computer and then the new story… d'oh.
> 
> Disclaimer: The canonical characters are not mine. The others are, and so are the words and the story.

"So about your parents, Drew. Are they cool?"

Andrew smiled. Nearly sixteen, he was awaiting passage home from school at Eton, sitting on the kerb at the agreed-upon place in front of his building with his friend and their suitcases. With the promise of stellar grades to come, Andrew had been allowed to invite a friend home for the holiday, and he'd chosen his friend Justin, who'd practically been his best mate since arriving at the school. Justin was quiet but very bright, shorter than Andrew but not by much, and pale: straight, short blond hair, light blue eyes, very different from his own brown curls and hazel eyes. They had classes together, played rugby together, and were generally inseparable. When his father suggested the reward, Andrew had made extra sure to do well in his classes. Not that it took much effort on his part.

"Yeah," answered Andrew at last. "They're cool."

Justin grinned in that lopsided way he had. "Will they like me?"

"They'd be mad not to—oh look, here's the car."

Andrew recognised his father's silver car, but as it approached, he realised it was not his father behind the wheel, but Edmund, his driver. The boot went up, then Edmund rose from the car and smiled. "Master Darcy, your father sends his apologies that he couldn't come himself." Edmund came around and gathered the boys' suitcases.

"Edmund, I told you to call me—"

"Yes, Andrew," said Edmund. "Just trying to show some decorum in front of your friends."

Andrew grinned. "Edmund, this is my friend, Justin Davies."

As the boys settled down in the back seat, Andrew asked, "So why couldn't my father come?"

"Your father got caught at work, and your mother has one of her headaches," said Edmund as they pulled away from the kerb. Andrew knew what that meant: avoiding some kind of welcome back party from Granny Pam's. He sat back with a grin. Edmund turned on the radio, to the football match, and the three of them listened during the drive.

Traffic into London was lighter than normal, and so they arrived into Holland Park in little time at all. Andrew pulled out his key and led his friend into his house; Edmund brought the bags into the foyer. "I think that'll be all, Edmund," said Andy. "I'm not sure where Justin's gonna sleep yet."

"Very well, Andy. You chaps have a good time—don't get into too much trouble."

Andrew and Justin looked to one another, smiling.

"I have an idea. You can make us some sandwiches," suggested Andy. "There's always lots of stuff in the fridge. Kitchen's downstairs. And I'll take our bags upstairs."

"Deal."

………

Tentatively, Justin went down the stairs to what he thought would be simply a kitchen, but was soon revealed to be a whole other floor of the house. He was halfway into the kitchen when he realised that he was not alone.

"What a day." A female voice. The rustle of newspaper.

"Tell me about it." A male voice.

Justin crept forward. He saw that two people were sitting on the sofa in the other room, a sort of sitting room. The sofa was facing away from the kitchen, towards an array of windows showcasing a small but lovely backyard. The man, whom he recognised even from the back as Drew's father (thanks to his visits to Eton), was holding up the newspaper to read. It was clear that she was sitting across his lap, leaning back on the arm of the sofa, and she had her arm around his neck. Justin watched as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. She was pretty. Justin flushed red. Drew had never mentioned his parents weren't together, that his father had remarried a younger woman. Or maybe he had walked in on something he shouldn't have!

"Andrew and his friend should be here soon," said Drew's dad; his tone made it sound almost like a scolding.

"I know," she said—she was now kissing his ear! And her fingers were in his hair!— "I just want this one last snuggle with you before two teenaged boys take over the house."

Trying to move away and back towards the staircase to avoid detection, Justin took a step backwards, but he bumped into the kitchen counter and knocked over a cupful of cooking utensils, making a horrible sound; Justin's skin got hotter and even redder. The lady jumped up, smoothing down her skirt; Mr Darcy stood as well, looking to the kitchen.

"Justin!" he said; he looked surprised and a little flustered. "You really should announce your presence when you enter a room—"

"Oh, Mark," said the woman, with a light laugh. "I'm sure he had no idea we were in here." She came up into the kitchen, smiling brightly; she was wearing a nice floral outfit and had her hair styled into a lovely short bob—not the sort of thing his mum or her friends would have ever worn. She extended her hand to shake it. "I'm Bridget."

Justin smiled shyly as he accepted it. She had really soft hands. She had on a wedding ring, so she must have been his wife, and hopefully not someone else's. "I'm Justin. Ma'am," he added, clearing his throat.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Justin," Bridget said. Looking pensive, she asked, "Are you from Wales?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thought so," she said with a grin. "Where's Andy?"

"Putting our bags upstairs." He swallowed hard. "He asked me—"

A thunder of footsteps on the stairs caused him to stop talking. Andy appeared, looking surprised initially, then smiled. "Hi! Didn't think you were home!"

"The wayward son returns and immediately raids the fridge," said Mark wryly. He approached his son, smiling with affection, clasping a hand on Drew's shoulder. "Welcome home, Andrew. It's good to have you back."

"Good to be home, Dad."

"I'm so glad you're here," Bridget said, smiling almost wistfully. "You get bigger every time I see you, I swear."

"Come on, darling, let's leave the boys to their snacks," said Drew's father as he slipped his arm around her shoulders; as he herded her towards the staircase, Bridget rolled her eyes.

"Bye," said Bridget, ruffling Drew's hair as she passed by him.

Andrew immediately dove into the refrigerator.

"Sorry," said Justin. "I didn't know anyone was down here."

"Don't worry." Justin froze then stood up, a package of luncheon meat in each hand. Very seriously, he asked, "They weren't doing anything embarrassing, were they? They can be kind of mushy."

Justin blushed again. "They were kind of… sitting on the couch."

"Ugh. Gross." Drew grinned. "Ham or roast beef?"

"Roast beef." Drew turned for the breadbox, then got a knife for the mustard. Justin asked, "So when do I get to meet your real mother?"

Drew dropped the knife into the jar of mustard. "My what?"

"Your real mum. I thought she had a headache or something."

Drew stared, mouth agape. "That is my real mum," he said at last as he started to laugh. "And it wasn't a real headache."

Justin was flummoxed. She didn't really even look old enough to be his mum, never mind how she dressed. He could not remotely imagine her as a contemporary of his own mother, with her suits, sprayed hair, dripping with gold necklaces. Justin then realised he ought to say something. "Oh."

Drew grinned. "Yeah," he said in a proud tone, "she's not like many of our friends' mums."

Justin found himself grinning back. "I noticed."

As they ate, Andrew explained the whole 'headache' thing, and Justin laughed. "When you meet my grandmother, you'll understand."

"Don't talk about your grandmother that way." It was Drew's father, and the amused expression on his face belied his stern tone.

"I was just explaining why Mum was faking a headache to get out having a big welcome back party."

Mr Darcy looked thoughtful. "Right." He came to stand by the table. "So I came back down to see what you boys have planned."

Drew shrugged. They hadn't really planned anything at all.

"Maybe you can take Justin to Holland Park. Show him the neighbourhood."

Andrew looked to Justin. "What d'you say?"

"Haven't seen much of London before." Justin grinned. "So that'd be great."

"Maybe one of these weekends, if you want, we can do some proper sightseeing," offered Mr Darcy.

"That'd be great, too, sir." Justin had always liked Drew's dad; he always seemed fair without being unreasonably strict.

"Think about what you'd like to see, then," said Mr Darcy. "Before you go out though," he continued, speaking to Drew, "your mother would like to show Justin around."

"Okay, Dad."

"And whether it's the park or whatever it is you end up doing, be back by five-thirty. We thought it might be nice to take you boys out for dinner to welcome you for the summer."

"Instead of Granny's crazy party," added Drew with a sidelong grin.

"Instead of Granny's crazy party," echoed his father before he left the kitchen.

When they were finished with their sandwiches they headed back upstairs. "Mum?" called Drew from the foyer. His voice seemed to echo throughout the house.

They heard her voice call from upstairs, "Boys, I'm up here."

The two of them trudged upstairs, found Drew's mum in what he presumed to Drew's room. Drew seemed surprised by the presence of a second bed. "Where did that come from?"

"Andy," she said brightly, "if you'd brought the bags into the room instead of throwing them down at the top of the stairs, you would have noticed straight away that we moved it in here. I was going to set up one of the guest rooms, but I thought you two might have more fun bunking in Andy's room together." Her smile faded a little. "Unless, of course, Justin would prefer his own room…"

"No, this is fine, ma'am."

She rolled her eyes, but was still smiling. "I can't get used to that, being called 'ma'am'. Makes me feel ancient. But the thought of you calling me 'Mrs Darcy'—just feel like I should be looking over my shoulder for Mark's mum…." She looked between the boys. There was no doubting, thought Justin, as to whom Drew's dad was. He looked more like his dad than his mum, for sure. "So. Obviously, Justin, this is Andy's room." She waved her hand, indicating he should follow her into the hallway. "Here's your loo," she said, pointing out the spacious bathroom next door. And pointing to the door at end of the hall, she said, "That's our room, Mr Darcy's and mine. I don't want you to feel shy about knocking if you need something Andy can't get for you… if the door's closed, I mean. Okay?"

Justin smiled. "Okay."

"And you know where the kitchen is, if you're feeling peckish. Let's go downstairs and I'll give you the three minute tour."

She led them through the front sitting room, the entertainment room where the telly was, and the library, then she pointed out another loo, and another door that was closed. "That's Mr Darcy's office. I don't mind you going anywhere else in the house, but his office is strictly off-limits."

"Yes, ma'am."

"We know better than to go in there," added Drew, smiling.

"And that's about it, really," she said in conclusion. "I'm sure you've heard about our idea for dinner." They both nodded. "You're free until five-thirty. Have fun."

………

After the sandwiches and the tour and getting settled in, they only had time for a quick stroll around Holland Park. Andrew said, "I loved having this park so nearby when I was little. My mum would bring me here quite a lot to play."

Justin grinned, kicking a particularly thick patch of grass with his foot as he walked. "We lived on a country estate, lots of space to play in, but not with my mum. She was usually too busy. I played a lot by myself." They walked along in silence for a bit, before Justin continued. "I always wished I'd had a brother or even a sister. Did you?"

"I dunno. My mum's friends would bring their kids over for me to play with. And honestly, I might not have liked to share my parents with anyone else," he said, turning and smiling at Justin.

Justin laughed, but Andrew was not sure it was genuine. It was then that Justin's attention was drawn to a pair of girls sitting on a bench down the path they were walking on; he seemed to latch onto this to change the subject.

"Oh, I like that blonde one. She's pretty," said Justin. "What do you think?"

Andrew shrugged. "I think they both are."

"Both? But the other girl's kind of… I dunno. Heavy."

Andrew blinked. She was a bigger girl than her friend, to be sure, but the blonde girl was almost too skinny. "Justin, you need to get your eyes checked," he teased. "Girls are _supposed_ to have curves, you know."

Flushing pink, Justin looked away. "I know."

"I just mean that there's more to a girl than meets the eye."

"Oh, giving this a lot of thought, are you?" said Justin, seeming to return to his regular humour.

Drew grinned as they got even closer to the bench. "Well, my dad always stresses that it's what inside a person that counts, not just what's on the outside. He said that if he'd relied on appearances only, he might never have fallen in love with my mum."

"But your mum's pretty."

Andrew laughed. "That isn't what I meant. It was what was inside that made him really love her."

Justin chuckled. "Yeah. But the outside can sure help."

"That's true," said Andy. At that moment the girls seemed to notice they were being analysed, and turned to one another, giggling, before looking back to Justin and Drew. As they passed by, Andrew pushed his hands into his pockets. It was a bit weird to think of his mum as pretty—she _was_ pretty, he realised, but really, she was just Mum to him. He smiled tenderly. "We should get back to the house or face the wrath of my dad."

"I can't imagine your dad ever getting angry."

"It doesn't happen often. But he really hates being late," Andrew said. "Even though my mum is always late to everything. It all balances out, I guess."

Justin laughed again.

………

The restaurant they went to wasn't quite what Justin expected. It was a pub, and a rather ordinary one at that. From the moment they left the house and started walking (which surprised Justin too), Drew was grinning. Clearly he had been here before.

"I thought about bringing you boys to somewhere with some historical significance," said Mark, "but Andrew likes coming here so much…"

Drew grinned. "My mum used to live in a flat upstairs."

Bridget smiled. "Andy likes to see my old neighbourhood." She turned to her husband. "Mark, will you get me a glass of wine—boys, some Cokes for you?"

They both agreed with grins, and Mark rose to order their drinks, bending to kiss his wife before going to the bar. They took a look at the menus at the table. "So," she said after a few minutes. "I'm having a chicken pasty—they are fantastic here. How about you two?"

"Fish and chips!" announced Drew.

"I'm shocked," said his mum, laughing and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She looked to Justin. "What about you?"

He looked quickly back to the menu. "I'll, uh, have fish and chips too."

"Good call," said Andrew, very seriously. "They are the very best anywhere."

Drew's father returned then with a tray of drinks, and set down a pint glass of Coke for each of the boys, a glass of pale wine for his wife and a pint of dark beer for himself. "Have we decided, or will it be the usual?"

"The usual. Two of Andy's usuals."

Mark turned and made a motion to the bar to let them know they were ready to order, then turned back to his wife, reaching for her hand to take it in his own. She, however, took the opportunity to scoot closer to him on their bench seat, and he let go of her hand to slip an arm around her shoulder. 

After ordering, Drew's parents asked them about school, how their classes had gone, whether or not Drew was improving at rugby—"Not really," was Justin's honest answer, earning him a playful punch from his friend—and if they were particularly looking forward to their next term of classes. The whole time, though, Justin could not help but notice how affectionate Drew's parents were with each other: the way she'd lean into him to be even closer, the way he'd tighten the grip on her shoulder, the way he'd chuckle and reflexively kiss her at the temple when she was helpless with laughter. It was not something he was used to seeing with his own parents; in fact, he found it surprising that they'd ever got close enough to bring him into the world.

The food arrived in short order and the delicious aroma of the food made him realise how long ago those sandwiches seemed to be. "You were right," said Justin, shoving two chips into his mouth at once. "This is awesome."

"I'm ashamed to admit I got takeaway from this place four days out of the week when I was single," said Drew's mum. "There's nothing here I've tried that I didn't like, but the chicken pasty…"

"Maybe I'll try that if we come back," said Justin, then felt embarrassed for being so presumptuous.

"We can definitely come back," said Mark.

As they walked home after the meal, the sky was just starting to darken and the air was cool. Justin put his hands in his pockets as he and Drew walked side by side. Glancing up, he saw that Drew's mum and dad were walking hand in hand. Something he said made her giggle, and he released her hand and put his arm about her shoulders. Simultaneously she slipped her arm around his waist.

In a confidential tone, Drew said, "I told you they can be mushy."

Justin smiled. "Your parents are mushier than most, I think."

"Really?" Drew looked genuinely surprised. "Your parents don't—"

Justin snorted a laugh. "Hardly."

"Huh." Andy furrowed his brow then looked up to his parents. "Huh," he said again.

………

Andrew had always taken his parents' relationship for granted. He just figured that people got married because they loved each other, and that love grew with time, with the bonds formed over the years, the shared memories, even children. He remembered his mother telling him stories of when she'd just met his father, how aloof, snooty and reticent he'd seemed, and how surprised (and ultimately delighted) she'd been to find his true, gentle nature. He'd reacted with the usual eye roll accompanied by a "Oh, _please_ , Mum—you're embarrassing me," but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered about how love really worked.

He wondered too about his friend's parents. It did not sound like they even liked each other, let alone loved each other. He tried to picture his mum and dad like that, tried to picture his dad not constantly complimenting his mum, calling her 'darling' or brushing his fingers over her hair; he tried too to picture his mum as a sour older lady with no time for him or for his dad, no kisses for either of them when they came home, no comforting arms in times of need.

He did not like thinking of it at all.

After getting ready for bed, putting on his pyjamas, brushing his teeth and combing his hair, he went to find his mum. She was in her bedroom, and when he knocked, she called for him to come in. When he did, he simply gave her a great big hug where she stood, and kissed her on the cheek.

She tightened her arms around him—he was taller than she was now—and said, "Well, I'm not sure what this is for, but I'll take it all the same." She sounded a little choked up.

"I didn't get to give you a proper hug when I saw you earlier," Andy said into her hair; she smelled like home, like Mum, like everything warm and safe. "I know you wanted to, but didn't want to embarrass me in front of my friend."

Her hands patted his back as she pulled away, and sure enough, she looked a little teary. "Very astute of you."

"I just wanted to say," said Andy, "that getting a hug from you will never embarrass me."

Her lip curled and quivered a bit before she spoke. "You're more and more like your father every day," she said, looking into his eyes. "That's something to be very proud of."

He grinned and, hoping to lighten the mood, said, "A kiss though… that's another story."

She laughed; his mother was good at laughing, and she did it frequently enough, but he still loved when she did so. She took his face in her hands, looked into his eyes, and pecked him on the cheek. "Have a good night's sleep," she said, "and if you two don't have anything planned, I might have something fun for us to do."

"Fun?"

She smirked. "A visit with your Auntie Tom."

Andy smiled broadly. "I don't think we have anything planned."

"What's this about plans?" It was his dad, coming into their bedroom.

"Might go see Auntie Tom tomorrow," said Andy eagerly.

"Ah," said his dad with a smile. "Do you think Justin will enjoy that?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," said Andy dismissively, though wasn't sure he actually would. Tom was a bit eccentric, but very funny, and Andy always liked the time spent with him.

"Well, then, you'd better rest up, because I've known the man for seventeen years and he still wears me out in large doses," joked his father. He reached out and patted his son's shoulder, then after a moment, pulled him into a hug. "Good night, son."

As Andrew left, he closed the door behind him, smiling. He wasn't sure quite why, but he had never felt luckier.

………

The next morning found both boys rising practically with the sun, especially since Drew had promised some kind of 'fun' outing with Drew's mum, and even the uncertain status of the outing didn't quell their enthusiasm. "So where are we going?" asked Justin as they descended the stairs to the first floor.

"To see my mum's friend. He's great."

"Ahhh. Old boyfriend? Your dad's pretty open-minded," said Justin with a laugh.

"Um. Not quite," said Drew enigmatically, still grinning himself.

Justin wondered what that might have meant.

They arrived in the kitchen to find Drew's parents already there; his father was in the process of stirring what appeared to be a great big bowl of batter, while his mum was searching through the cupboards for something.

"Good morning, you two," said his dad, as they took seats at the kitchen table. "Justin, did you sleep well?"

Justin nodded.

"Good. Hope you're hungry. We've got pancakes on the horizon."

"Yum," said Justin; despite that amazing meal the night before, he was famished. He watched as Mrs Darcy—Bridget—brought the bottle of pancake syrup to the table, then walked over to where her husband was.

"Andy's dad makes the very best pancakes," she proclaimed, running her hand along her husband's shoulder. Drew nodded. Justin couldn't imagine his own dad cooking anything at all. Then a cloud shadowed her face; she looked thoughtful, regretful. "You know, Justin, it never even occurred to me to offer… as happy as I am to have you with us for the holiday, your parents must miss you, so please feel free to call them whenever you want."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, though honestly he doubted they'd miss him at all.

"What lines of work are your parents in?" Drew's father asked as he ladled spoonfuls of batter onto the sizzling skillet.

"My father runs a bank," said Justin, picking up his fork and twirling it in his fingers. "My mother doesn't work—my father doesn't let her."

He glanced up to see the tail end of Drew's mum recovering from an astonished look. "Doesn't let her?" she asked.

Justin nodded. "She hardly needs to."

"I hardly need to either, but—"

"Bridget," said her husband in a rather darker tone than Justin had gotten used to hearing. She pursed her lips and threw him a look, but muttered an apology nonetheless.

"I'm not saying I think it's right," Justin added, lest Drew's mother think he was a Neanderthal, because he was starting to see that his mum and dad were not always as right as they'd purported themselves to be. After all, his parents had always espoused the notion that marriage was part business merger, part forming alliances, and look at how unhappy they clearly were compared to Drew's parents.

Drew's mum smiled. "I'm happy to hear that whichever lucky girl wins your heart won't have to be told what she can or cannot do."

"Bridget," said Drew's dad again. "Darling," he added in a softer tone. "Please get some plates. The first round's done."

"Hurrah!" She went over to the cupboard and pulled out four generously-sized plates, bringing them to her husband. "You know," she continued, "when I first moved in, this house had the most horrible kitchen cupboards. Everything was brushed stainless and you couldn't tell one cupboard from the next, let alone where the breaks were. Right after we got married I decided the stainless steel had to go for the sake of my sanity."

"Even though I still do most of the cooking," said Andrew's dad with a grin.

Justin furrowed his brow. "You lived here before your wedding?"

"Mm-hmm," she said. "We were engaged, and it seemed silly to wait—and even sillier to maintain two residences, since he was always over at—" She stopped short, as if remembering she was talking to a sixteen-year-old boy.

Mr Darcy, however, picked up on her line of thinking: "I do miss that flat sometimes."

She flushed red and took the pancakes over to the boys. "Here, we have butter, and syrup… orange juice for you boys?" she asked, her voice high and tight.

"Yes, please," they said in unison.

As Justin ate his breakfast, which was in fact the finest stack of pancakes he'd ever eaten, he wondered what his parents would have thought of that arrangement. Living together before marriage! And probably more. He felt himself flushing red, too.

Directly after breakfast, Mrs Darcy grabbed the kitchen telephone and punched in some numbers. After a minute's pause, she said, "Hey, Tom, it's Bridge. Andy's home from Eton with his friend and we were looking for something fun to do, and of course we thought of you. Give me a call when you get this. Bye."

Justin felt his hopes drooping—he'd been looking forward to this day of fun, especially when this family's notion of fun was much different than his own family's—but then within a minute or two the phone rang, it was Tom, and they were instructed to head upstairs to get dressed immediately after finishing eating. 

It wasn't until they were climbing into the minicab that Justin learned they were heading for a recording studio.

………

"My word. They're growing 'em handsome out there in Eton."

Those were the first words out of Tom's mouth upon their arrival at the little recording studio.

"Tom," said Drew's mom. "Behave yourself."

"This is me, behaving," he said, pointing his thumbs towards himself. "My word, Andrew, you're two feet higher than last time I saw you." He looked over to Justin. "And this must be your friend."

"This is Justin," offered Drew.

"Hi, nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet a friend of Andrew's," said Tom. He was a tallish man with a dignified profile; piercing, intelligent eyes and a subtle sense of style; dark hair immaculately coiffed and greying at the temples; and a persistent grin that Justin found infectious. "So. You came to see what music producers do?"

Justin was astonished. "Is that what you do?"

"Mmm, someone has not been sufficiently talking about how fabulous I am," Tom scolded playfully, glancing at Andrew. "Well, come on. I'll show you the studio."

He was working that day, as it turned out, with an artist that Justin and Drew were both fond of, a guitar prodigy in his early twenties. "Oh my God," Justin said excitedly to Drew as they walked. "This is beyond cool."

"I know, right?" said Drew in return. "Last summer I got to meet Amy Lee and Carmen Delia."

"Wow," Justin said, awestruck. "Amy Lee is legendary."

"I know. And she's still _totally_ gorgeous."

"Boys?" Tom interrupted as they arrived in the booth. There, on the other side of the glass, was Jonny B, who waved to them, his guitar perched on one leg. "You'll have to stay very quiet so I can concentrate. We're just re-recording a few bits that got ruined by a faulty mike."

It was amazing, watching the artist make his magic with the guitar, making it do things that Justin would have considered impossible; his fingers moved so fast they were a blur. Justin sat there the entire time with his mouth hanging agape.

"Brilliant," said Tom. "I knew this wouldn't take long. Come on up—I've got some folks I'd like you to meet."

Jonny B stood, flipped his blondish hair back and grinned, mouthing _I'll be right up_ as he set his guitar down on the stand.

"So," said Tom as the tall guitarist joined them. "This is Andrew Darcy, my godson; Bridget, his mum; and Andrew's friend Justin. The boys are off for summer from school and wanted to come to work with Auntie Tom."

_Auntie Tom?_ thought Justin.

"Hey, nice to meet you," said Jonny.

"We're really big fans, and that was amazing," breathed Justin. Drew merely nodded.

Jonny laughed. "Thanks. I'll be sure to give tickets to Tom for next weekend's show."

Drew's mum, who Justin had frankly forgotten was even there with the wonder of the guitar genius before him, spoke up. "I'm sure they'd love that. What do you say?"

Justin couldn't rein in the grin. 

"Excellent. Tom, I'll be in touch." He hoisted his guitar case up and made to leave.

"Good work today, Jonny. See you."

As they vacated the sound booth, Tom turned to Bridget. "Will you have to clear it with…" Tom paused, clearing his throat, looking pointedly to Drew. "You know?"

"Oh, if they're going with you, he'll be fine with it."

Tom grinned. "Excellent. Name the time and the place and it'll be just me and my posse."

Bridget laughed. "Your posse of impressionable teenaged boys."

"I will be the model of respectability," said Tom, affecting a wounded tone.

"You'd better be," said Bridget. "Or you'll answer to Mark."

"Promises, promises," teased Tom.

Justin furrowed his brows, not understanding what that was supposed to mean.

"Behave yourself," said Mrs Darcy darkly.

Tom pursed his lips tight before smiling again. 

"So," asked Justin as they left the studio. "Tom is your godfather?"

Mum and son shared a look and a grin. "Not exactly," said Drew's mum.

"He's one of my godmothers," explained Drew.

"God _mothers_?"

"Well, Auntie Shazzer is one and so is Auntie Jude."

"But he's a man."

"Yes."

And then it occurred to Justin: "Tom's a poof?"

They both nodded.

Justin was sure he went pale. He had never met a gay man before; from the way his parents spoke, he was expecting horns and a tail. But Tom— _Auntie_ Tom—was so friendly and nice, and funny.

"Mum," said Drew confidentially, "I think we broke his brain."

He felt an arm around his shoulders comforting him. Drew's mum. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"No… I mean, I don't think so…" Justin said, blinking rapidly.

"You'll be as much a nephew to Tom as Andy is."

He nodded.

She squeezed her hand on his shoulders, and God, he nearly wanted to cry, because he couldn't think of the last time his own mother hugged him. "Come on. I think a suitable application of ice cream is needed."

………

Andrew's mum took them all to get cones in Leicester Square, and Andrew had to admit that Justin was looking a little bit better. As he ate his ice cream, he reflected on how different an upbringing he'd had compared to his friend. He knew that some of the boys at school taunted one another with slurs about their sexuality, but Andrew had never joined in because of his love and respect for Auntie Tom. Justin hadn't either, but he'd assumed it was for similar reasons.

When his mum went to use the ladies' loo, Andrew leaned forward. "Are you really all right?"

Justin nodded, still looking a bit dazed. "Yeah. I just hadn't met a… real-life poofter before."

Andrew chuckled. "That you know of," teased Andrew.

"What do you mean? Do you know something I don't?"

"No, durr," said Andrew. "I just mean it's not always something you can tell by looking at someone."

Justin smiled at last, but it was forlorn. "You must think I'm the most sheltered kid in the whole country."

"Nah. I think Alan from Maths class is the most sheltered kid in the whole country."

They both laughed at that.

"Things are very different in London."

"That's what I keep hearing," said Andrew.

………

"Absolutely not."

It was shortly after the three of them had gotten home. Justin and Drew were watching a DVD in the entertainment room, and Justin had excused himself to use the toilet. As he was about to emerge, he heard Mr Darcy's voice echo in the foyer. He was standing there with his wife.

"But Mark, they'll have a chaperone."

"Sending two teen boys to a concert with Tom is as good as a sending them alone."

Mrs Darcy looked up to her husband. "There was a time when that was true," she conceded, "but he's much more responsible now."

"Just because he's had the same boyfriend for a year solid does not mean he's more responsible."

"He loves Andy," she said, "and would never let anything happen to him."

"I don't doubt that," he said in reply. "But sometimes… things just happen with Tom."

At that moment something happened that left Justin happy he had not just forged ahead out into the foyer as he wanted to: she took her husband's hands and placed them on her waist, then put her arms around his neck, and raised up on her toes to give him a lingering peck on the lips.

"Please?" she said, resting on her flat feet again, brushing her thumbs against his greying sideburns.

"Bridget."

She did it again, this time on the corner of his mouth, then settled back again, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. "Pretty please?"

"Bridget," he said again, with far less conviction.

When she raised up again, she gave him a series of quick, flitting kisses. "With sugar on top?"

"You promise me Tom will be an absolute saint?" he asked quietly, his hands tightening on her waist.

"I will make him pinky-swear, if it makes you happy."

He looked heavenwards, closed his eyes, then smiled. "Well, if you're going to pinky-swear, then I guess I'll relent."

She bounced on her toes and kissed him properly and sweetly. "Thank you," she said. "The boys will be so thrilled."

She released her embrace and stepped away, heading towards the stairs that led to the kitchen. Justin closed the loo door to the barest crack so he wouldn't be seen.

"Bridget?" called Mr Darcy from where he still stood.

She stopped and turned. "Yes, Mark?"

"We shall continue our… negotiations later," he said in a low tone.

He could only see Drew's mum from behind, but from the way her head tilted up and to the side, he knew she must have been smiling. "I'm counting on it," she replied, then turned to descend the stairs. _Yep_ , he thought, _she was smiling_.

Justin would have called it the single strangest interaction between two adults except he had already seen so many of those that perplexed and astounded him here at his friend's that he figured he'd better stop trying to keep track.

………

"Hey Drew, you up?"

Andrew shifted in bed, saying, "I'm up. What's wrong?"

"Can't sleep."

He didn't respond at first, then said in a teasing voice, "Do you need your favourite blankie?"

"Ha ha," said Justin. "I just… your parents are so different than mine."

"Everybody's parents are different."

"That isn't what I meant."

Andrew pushed himself up on his elbows. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno," said Justin. Clearly he did know or he wouldn't have been kept awake by it.

"Justin, you can tell me."

There was a great deal of silence for so long he thought his friend might have gone back to sleep. "I saw your mum and dad kissing earlier."

Andrew chuckled. "I already told you they can be mushy sometimes."

"It's more than that." There was another bit of silence. "I thought my parents loved each other, but they never act like that, constantly touching one another, holding hands, kissing…"

"Maybe they don't do it in front of you."

"I don't think so," Justin said sombrely. "They don't even seem to much like each other. My dad never comes to see me at Eton. My mum doesn't hug me. They talk about the right way to do things but they're not happy doing it themselves."

Andrew did not know what to say. He had never meant to cause his friend pain by inadvertently revealing to him the things missing from his own family life.

"But," continued his friend's voice from across the room, "at least I know there's a different way, a better way to have a family, and I am not going to marry Sarah Evans."

Andrew spurted a laugh. "What? What are you talking about?"

"My mum has been telling me since I was young that my life, my future would be perfect if I married Sarah Evans. That her parents had all the right connections and had boatloads of money too."

"Is she someone we know from—?"

"No. She's in Cardiff." Justin's hometown. "We played together as children. She's okay, I guess, but the truth of it is that I don't like the thought of my future all laid out for me."

"Just from one day with my family?" he asked, incredulous.

"No, of course not," came the response. "I've been feeling restless for a while but didn't really know why. Now I know."

"Your mum and dad won't be happy."

"But the thing is, I will."

Andrew grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Amy Lee](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amy_Lee) from Evanescence, who I am positive will only get better with age.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …And because I am a big durr: Thanks to just_dreamsome. :*

"Wake up!"

They had been at Drew's for a little over two weeks now, and today was Drew's birthday. Justin knew the day was planned for celebrating it. It was understandable that Drew was excited at finally turning sixteen, but honestly, what was in store for them but a stodgy old party?

"Drew, it's eight in the morning," Justin grumbled as he pulled the sheets up over his head. "We stayed up until two watching DVDs."

"But it's birthday breakfast, so get up."

"What's the big deal about that?"

Drew yanked the covers back. "What's the big _deal_? Are you mad? Chocolate chip pancakes, and bacon and toast, and drinking chocolate with whipped cream on top… that's the big deal!"

Justin blinked sleepily.

" _And_ I got to pick what I want to do today. So we're going to the Eye!"

Justin sat up, his mouth hanging open. "Seriously?"

"Yup!"

Justin jumped out of bed. "Let's have breakfast, then."

………

Andrew and Justin got to the kitchen just as the first batch of pancakes was coming off of the griddle. Andrew watched his friend's expression; he was almost more excited to see Justin's reaction when he realised there was not one but two birthday crowns on the table.

Justin saw them, then blinked his disbelief, as they sat there next to each other, side by side. "What's this?"

"Andy tells us it was your birthday just at the end of your term," said Mum, "so you didn't get to celebrate it properly. So. Happy birthday, Justin."

Justin grinned. It was obvious he was incredibly touched. He slipped into one of the chairs, then put the paper crown on.

"We always save some paper crowns at Christmas for birthdays," explained Andrew, sitting and putting his own crown on. Mum came around with the plate of pancakes. "All _right!_ " he said, then started to chant, "Pancakes! Pancakes!"

She smiled, serving each of them pancakes, then returned with generous portions of bacon.

"Where's your father, Drew?"

Andrew furrowed his brows. It was true. His father was not there. "Mum, where's Dad?"

"He's got a little bit of work to take care of," said Mum. "But he'll be done in time to come with us to the Eye."

Mum was true to her word; just as they finished eating, Dad showed up with a smile and a kiss on the head for Andrew. "Happy birthday, son," he said. 

His mum added, "It's hard to believe you're sixteen."

Andrew glanced up to look at his mother. As he expected she was looking a bit misty-eyed. "Yeah, I know," he grinned. "You say that every year."

"I do not," protested Mum. "You were not sixteen last year."

They all laughed. 

Changing the subject, Mum said, looking to Dad, "Did you get your work taken care of?"

"Oh, yes," he said, sitting at a plate where his own eggs and bacon were waiting. "As soon as I'm finished we can head out."

When they went upstairs, they noticed two pairs of very obvious shapes attempted to be masked by wrapping paper: two long, tall thin strips of wood, and two egg-shaped balls sitting on the table in the foyer. "What… what's this?" said Andrew.

"Gifts, silly," said Mum. "It _is_ your birthday. There's a set for each of you."

Justin again looked overwhelmed. "For me?"

"Mm-hmm," confirmed Mum. "Well, you play and practise together, don't you?"

"Are we allowed to open them now?" asked Andrew eagerly.

"Sure," said Dad. "But no trying them out until later. _Outside_."

They chuckled. Reaching for what he knew to be a cricket bat, Andrew pulled off the paper and gasped. It was beautiful, made of gleaming pale wood with a leather-wrapped handle. Justin's matched except for the colour of the handle; Andrew's was a deep carnelian and Justin's, a burnished brown. The rugby balls were made of leather that matched the leather wrapping of the respective cricket bats.

"Wow. These are so nice I'll hardly want to use them," gushed Justin. "Thank you so much."

"Yes," echoed Andrew. "Thank you."

Mum and Dad both smiled. "You're very welcome," said Mum. "Now I think we have an appointment with destiny… or, as it happens, a pod on the Eye."

………

Justin could not remember a better birthday. A ride on the London Eye with a pod all to themselves (during which Justin mostly just stared in awe at the panorama around him as Drew's parents reclined back with glasses of Pimm's); afterwards they went to visit a few sights like the best of tourists (Parliament, Piccadilly Square, Big Ben), had lunch at a pub once frequented by Charles Dickens, then headed back via taxi to Holland Park Avenue.

"Did you have a good day?"

It was Drew's mum speaking, waking Justin as they pulled up to the house. It had been an wonderful but exhausting day. "It was great," said Drew, sitting up in his seat.

"Yeah. You didn't have to do so much for me, though I appreciate it very much."

Drew's mum looked thoughtful. "What do you normally do on your birthday?"

Justin shrugged. There was never as big a deal made by his own parents as Drew's. "Usually have dinner," Justin admitted. "I'm supposed to be able to pick my favourite thing, but they never let me have pizza, so we have something else instead. It's nice though, to have my mum and dad sitting down with me for once."

"They don't usually?" asked Drew's dad.

Justin shrugged again. "Dad works late a lot."

Drew's parents shared a look. "Well," said Mr Darcy, looking back to the boys with a half-smirk. "If there are no objections, since I cannot think of anything better, I am all for a good pizza for dinner."

Justin wondered bemusedly if it were possible to put himself up for adoption.

………

Sated on pizza and cola and watching mindless science fiction movies on television, Andrew had dozed off, but woke at the soft sound of his mother's voice, of her gentle hand on his arm: "Andy, may we speak to you for a moment?" He glanced over and saw that Justin had sacked out, too.

"Yeah, sure, of course," said Andy, blinking sleepily.

He followed his mum to his father's office, which worried him for a moment. Andrew never went in there, never dared risk his father's wrath for venturing into the office. His dad sat there reclining back on the edge of his desk, his arms folded over his chest, which would have been intimidating except for the grin on his face.

"We like Justin well enough," said Dad, "but we wanted a little time with you on your birthday."

"In here?" Andrew blurted before he could think about it.

His parents both started to laugh. "Well, in here is the only place we can adequately hide your gifts that we can be sure you'll never find them."

"Gifts?" he echoed. "I thought you gave me my gift already."

"Andy, my love," said Mum, putting her arm around his shoulders, kissing his wavy hair at the temple. "It's your sixteenth birthday. That's sort of a milestone. You deserve more than a cricket bat and a rugby ball."

His father got up and strode around to his desk drawer, pulling it open. He pulled out a square black box with a silver bow on the top, then walked around to hand it to Andrew.

"Happy birthday, son."

Andrew looked up to his father, and it was a very solemn look he found looking back at him. He accepted the gift, which was not wrapped in paper, but the box lid itself seemed to be covered in a sort of silk fabric. He lifted the lid off, and was overwhelmed by what he saw.

Looking up, he began, "This isn't—"

"It is," confirmed his father.

He looked in the box again. It was Great-Grandfather Darcy's pocket watch. The pale antique gold watch shone as it lie there nestled among the blue-black velvet, elaborate and delicate scrollwork engraved on its case. It was cool to the touch, and heavy in his hand as he picked it up.

He looked up to meet his mother's eyes, then his father's. He did not know quite what to say. He knew this was much more than a pocket watch; it was a rite of passage, acknowledging he was not a child any longer. "Thank you."

His father nodded. "Just take good care of it."

"I will," he said solemnly.

"I know you will," said Dad, smiling wistfully.

It was Mum, of course, who broke the silence (in a very Granny Pam sort of way) by saying, "Well, honestly, darling… that isn't the only thing we have for you. Come on, Mark."

"Right." Dad bent down to reach into the drawer once more, and pulled out another wrapped gift. "Here you are."

It was not a large box—truth be told, suspiciously jewellery-sized—and he tore the paper off to reveal two things: a new watch and an envelope.

He picked up the watch, silver in tone and a classic watch face with Roman numerals and a pale brown distressed leather band. "That," said Mum, "is more practical for you to wear than the pocket watch, and it will make sure you're on time to—" She stopped suddenly and smiled. "Well. You'll see."

Intrigued, Andrew tore into the envelope and squealed with delight.

"Tickets to the exhibition game?" he said, incredulous and excited. It was a football game that had been sold out for months, one that he and Justin had dearly wanted to attend.

"Yup," said Dad. "Now, those are from your Uncle Peter. He won't be back in London for a few days yet, and he asked us to give them to you."

"There's a ticket for Justin, too," added his mum.

Andrew grinned, feeling on top of the world. "Thank you so much!" he said, holding tight to the gifts, and stepping back towards the door. "I can't wait to tell—"

"Hold on," said Dad sternly. "Where do you think you're going?"

Andrew blinked.

"We haven't quite finished yet," he continued. He was smirking.

Andrew's mouth hung open. "You haven't?"

Mum shook her head. "One more. Close your eyes."

He did.

"Hold out your hands."

He did that as well.

He then felt a box placed across his open palms. It was not very heavy.

His father asked, "Got it?"

"Yes, Dad," he replied.

He heard his mother giggle a little. "All right. Open your eyes."

When he did, he nearly squealed again. It was a brand new notebook computer.

"It's got optimised video relay capabilities," explained his father, "so we can talk face to face more often."

Andrew smiled. "This is awesome. Thank you so, so much!"

His parents were both grinning broadly. "You're the light of our lives, Andy," said Mum. "You've always made us beyond proud."

"I couldn't have asked for a better son," added Dad, as Mum nodded.

He went around to where they stood and hugged them, one arm around each of them.

"I love you," he said softly.

"Love you too," they said in unison, one on each side of him.

………

Justin opened his eyes to see that the movie was over, and he was in the entertainment room alone. He pushed himself upright just as a beaming Drew came in.

"Hey," said Justin. "What've you got there?"

"My folks had more gifts for me," he said excitedly.

"Of course they did," said Justin, grinning. He hadn't expected even a cricket bat from them. "So what kind of loot did you get?"

Drew smiled. "A new notebook!" He proudly held up the box.

"Oooh, those are great, and so thin… and there's more?"

Drew nodded. "Well, this pocket watch—it's an heirloom, handed down from generation to generation." He exaggerated his tone as he showed his friend, who whistled. "Then a real watch, and oh! Tickets to the football game!"

Justin blinked in his disbelief. " _The_ game?"

Drew nodded excitedly. "From my Uncle Peter! For all of us to go!"

"Uncle Peter?"

"You'll like him. He's been, like, _everywhere_ , and he's super funny."

"Will he like me?"

Drew fixed him with a piercing look. "Durr."

Justin felt a little wistful. "You know, Drew, you've got a really cool family." 

Drew looked really thoughtful, though was still smiling. "I do, don't I? Oh! I should ring him up!" Drew reached into his pocket for his mobile. "To say thanks."

………

It took a few rings before Andrew's uncle picked up. " _Bonjour_ ," he said. Andrew wondered if he was in France.

"Uncle Peter?" asked Andrew.

"Birthday boy Drew! How are you?"

"Very well," said Andrew, glancing to Justin. "I just wanted to say thank you for the tickets. Can't wait to go!"

"You're welcome. Hear you have a friend there with you, and he's coming with us."

"Yup."

"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

They spoke briefly about plans for Saturday, heading out for something to eat before the big match. "I don't know how you feel about this," said Peter, "but I am dying for a great big cheeseburger and a side of chips."

"I don't think you'll get any arguments out of us."

"Great. I'll be there at eleven."

They disconnected.

"Well," said Andrew, turning back to Justin, who tore his disinterested gaze away from the telly screen. "Plans set for Saturday, I've got a new notebook, and this movie's boring me stiff. Let's play with the new toy!"

Justin brightened considerably.

………

As it turned out, Saturday was planned to be an all around busy day: after the game, the whole lot of them were to travel up to Grafton Underwood to visit with both sets of Andrew's grandparents. Once again, Justin seemed surprised, and Andrew didn't feel right asking why.

It was a loud squeal that awakened them that Saturday morning, much later than either usually liked to sleep; then again, they'd each had trouble falling asleep due to nervous excitement. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up in his bed, and looked over to Justin, who was doing the same.

"What on earth was that?" asked Justin.

"I have a feeling I know."

Justin, evidently curious, pushed back the sheets and went to the window that overlooked the backyard. Andrew was next to him in a heartbeat, and it was as he suspected:

It was his mum and dad. Mum was standing in the backyard, wearing light blue shorts and a pale floral print halter top that were both clearly half damp. Dad was standing with a wicked grin on his face and holding on to a garden hose that he had pointed directly at her.

"You bastard!" shouted Mum, though she too was clearly amused.

"You dared me to do it," said Dad matter-of-factly. "I don't back down from a challenge like that." Just to prove his point, he briefly tightened his grip on the nozzle, spraying her with water all over again.

Unsurprisingly, she squealed once more; in a bold move, she then rushed forward in an attempt to wrestle the hose from his hands.

"Oh no you don't," he said, raising it up and over his head, but that didn't stop her from trying, and she practically stepped on his feet and climbed up his arms to try to get at the hose…

…And somewhere in that, the grapple for the hose became a rather tight embrace and snog, at which both boys retreated from the window, glancing to one another with hesitant smirks as if they'd seen something utterly forbidden.

"Do they do that a lot?" asked Justin.

"What, have water fights?" asked Andrew flippantly.

"Oh, yeah, _water fights_." He glanced to the clock again, a strange expression passing over his face. "Forget breakfast; your uncle will be here in an hour."

They were primping side by side in the bathroom mirror, waiting for Uncle Peter to show up, when Justin finally seemed to open up about his earlier surprise then his odd reaction. "I probably should have realised that it was more normal to have a bunch of family around than not," he said, combing his hair to the side, then using his hand to muss it again just so. "I haven't seen my grandparents, either set, since I was very small. They don't come around much."

_They can't be buggered, more like_ , thought Andrew. He wanted to ask how in the world a nice, genial, funny kid had come from such a cold and emotionless family, but he thought better of it.

His thoughts regarding Justin's family must have weighed on his mind more than he thought, because after the arrival of his uncle—who had not changed a bit—and after Justin ran off to the loo one last time before they left, Uncle Peter turned his intense blue eyes on Andrew.

"What's wrong, Drew?" said Uncle Peter.

"Nothing's really wrong," admitted Andrew. "It's just that hearing about Justin's mum and dad, how strict and horrible they are, how they don't show him any affection, barely acknowledge his birthday… and then his grandparents don't even come to visit, like, ever… I never realised how much I take my own family for granted."

"No one who knows you would ever think you take your family for granted."

"Well, that's not quite what I mean," Andrew explained. "I take how good I've got it for granted."

Uncle Peter slipped an arm around his nephew's shoulders and gave him a quick hug. "I don't think anyone would ever accuse you of taking your excellent family situation for granted," he said with a grin. "The man you're growing up to be is a testament to that." Uncle Peter tightened his hug for a moment, then stepped away, chuckling. "Now if your father was still married to that first wife of his… we might have a different story altogether."

Dad had not often spoken of his first wife; that 'she was and is everything that your mother is not, and that's all I'll say on the subject' was the most Andrew could ever get out of his father about her; that and she was of Japanese heritage. Jumping on the chance for more information, Andrew asked, "Was she really that bad?"

"Oh, you have _no_ idea," admitted his uncle.

"Why on earth did they ever get married then?"

Uncle Peter only now started to look like he was sorry he'd broached the subject. "I think your dad felt she was as good as any other woman he'd known, and she seemed to have the right pedigree…" At Andrew's shocked look, he added, "Oh, your father was _quite_ a different man in those days. Your mum was the best thing to ever happen to him."

Andy smirked. "Did he divorce her to be with Mum?"

Now his uncle looked positively cornered. "How much has your father told you about this?"

Andrew was a terrible liar. "Not much. But I've always been really curious."

The older man sighed. "It was she who left your father, long before he met your mother, as I understand it. Mind you, I was quite out of the picture for some time." He patted Andrew's shoulder again. "I think anything more on the subject needs to be cleared by your father first."

Andrew sighed.

"You're getting older now," added Peter. "He might be willing to explain more to you now if you ask. But don't tell him you were talking to me about it—hello, Mark!" he said, changing tone abruptly as his brother appeared on the stairs up from the kitchen. To Andrew's amusement, his dad's hair was dripping wet; perhaps Mum had finally wrested control of the hose away. "I'll have them back here straightaway for our ramble on to G-U."

Dad grinned. 

Uncle Peter furrowed his brow. "Why are you—"

"A bit of a problem with the hose out back," he explained smoothly. "Andrew, where's your partner in crime?"

"He'll be right down," explained Andrew.

A thumping on the stairs above indicated Justin was on his way back down, and with quick goodbyes and 'have fun's, they were off to have lunch, then the game.

………

After the excitement of the game, both Justin and Drew were too tired to keep awake during the long drive to Grafton Underwood. Drew's uncle decided to ride with the four of them to conserve fuel. Justin, however, did not sleep solidly the entire time, so he caught snippets of conversations the adults probably did not mean for him to hear.

"Did you two have a good afternoon?" Peter asked of Drew's parents.

"Very good," said Mr Darcy, from his position behind the wheel of the car.

"Better than good," said Mrs Darcy. "I like having the boys here but it puts a crimp on… well, it was practically the first time we'd had alone together since they got here."

Peter chuckled. "Ah, enough said."

Justin heard Drew's mum giggle. "Darling, it's only your brother. No need for your ears to go all pink like that."

"But the boys."

"They're sleeping. Completely knackered out."

Justin was by no means naïve on the subject of what adults did during their private time together. To try to picture his own parents spending their time thusly seemed impossible, not to mention disgusting. He should have been mildly weirded out by the thought of anyone's parents in such a state, but from what he'd seen of Drew's parents, it didn't seem so weird at all.

However, after this, Justin endeavoured to really try to sleep.

They went directly to Drew's paternal grandparents'. They were welcoming, genial people who embraced Justin with great affection, both figuratively and literally. Drew's great-uncle, however, looked at him with undisguised scrutiny.

"Friend of Andrew's from Eton, are you?" the man said.

"Yes, sir," Justin said politely.

"Welsh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your parents vote Tory, I presume?"

Drew's mum burst out in a laugh. "Uncle Nick, come on. Give the boy a break."

"Has to be properly vetted, child," he grumbled. _Child?_ thought Justin.

"Yeah, like you did to Hugh, scaring the living hell out of him," said Drew's dad.

"They do," said Justin feebly.

"Very well," Great-Uncle Nick said after a moment. "You can stay."

Drew's mum laughed again. "I'm glad I wasn't tossed out by my ear for not being Tory."

Justin blinked. He shouldn't have been surprised given all he knew of Drew's mum, but he was all the same.

"Well," Nick said, "you proved yourself in other ways."

"What about me?" said Drew with a grin.

"Ah," he said thoughtfully after few minutes. "You're exempt for being so much like your mother."

Drew grinned, rolling his eyes.

"My point is made," he said. But he was smiling, too.

A loud, insistent knocking on the door announced the arrival of Drew's maternal grandparents, the Joneses. Grandpa Colin was quiet, docile and introspective, but Granny Pam was, even at her age, a whirlwind of energy, bright and shining and always smiling—and even more frequently talking; Justin knew at once what Drew had meant about avoiding her crazy party. She hugged her grandson so tightly he made a face like he was being strangled, but then started to laugh.

"It's so good to see you," she said, "and oh, look at how big you are, how _grown-up_ you are, how much you look like your father, you lucky boy. You're going to make some girl very happy some day."

Drew turned the faintest shade of pink, casting a glance to his equally sheepish-looking father.

They all had dinner together, and the room was filled with raucous, pleasant conversation the entire time. _This_ , thought Justin, _is what a family should be like._

Justin was still curious about a few things, and he leaned into his friend to ask, "So your mum's not a Tory?"

Andrew nearly choked on his soup. "Uh, not even a little bit. Nope."

"Your father lets her?"

Justin was met with a baffled look. "He hardly has a say in her political views. Besides, it's made for some very educational discussions at the supper table."

"I suppose," said Justin, still trying to come to grips with the concept of a mother who could not only work if she wanted to, but vote as her conscience dictated. "And your uncle, Peter? Is he married?"

Drew shook his head. "Nope. He had a long-time boyfriend for a while, then a girlfriend, but they split up too."

At this, Justin had no response except for a "Oh."

"Sorry," said Drew ruefully; "you look like I just told you there's no Father Christmas."

"Your family is full of surprises," Justin admitted; he could not stop a grin from spreading on his face as he continued, "which… is kind of cool, actually. So how about Great-Uncle Nick? Does he have a boyfriend too?" he asked with a wink.

"Hardly," replied Drew with a great big laugh. "Uncle Nick's kind of a mystery in that regard. Heard he used to see some lady in London regularly but beyond that… a great big unknown."

"And why does your great-uncle call your mum 'child', anyway?"

"I don't know, really."

"It's because she was when I met her," cut in another voice, and from across the table both boys saw the piercing blue eyes of Great-Uncle Nick directed at them. His pursed-lip smile made Justin wonder how long he'd been listening in. "She still is."

Drew laughed. "I think sometimes Dad thinks so too."

"Dad thinks what, too?" piped up Drew's father.

"Nothing, nothing," said Drew with a chuckle.

After dinner was dessert, chocolate cake (with candles to blow out after a spirited round of "Happy Birthday to You") and ice cream. Drew's relatives brought out their presents for him. From Grandpa Malcolm and Granny Elaine was a hand-knit jumper—"Not hand-knit by me, mind you," she was quick to say with a smile, "but by some sainted granny in France"—in anticipation of the new school year, as well as gift certificates for several of Drew's favourite stores. Grandpa Colin and Granny Pam gave him a desk set, an antique reproduction of his favourite author's, Charles Dickens, and a matching Mont Blanc pen. Drew received a gorgeous leather attaché from Great-Uncle Nick, who advised it was never too soon to start thinking of these things.

Drew thanked all of them profusely for everything. It was clear that he was absolutely sincere.

"Oh, I could burst," said Justin after gorging on two pieces of cake, several glasses of soda, and a generous helping of ice cream. He sat back in his chair and sighed. "This is seriously my best summer ever."

Drew grinned. "And it's not even over yet!"

………

Shortly after everyone was finished having cake, the adults moved to the sitting room to have coffee. Andrew and Justin congregated with Grandpa Colin for a chat; it seemed that Grandpa's own grandfather had come from Cardiff, which was an immediate point in common with Justin. As the two of them chatted amicably, Andrew noticed his father watching his mother with a very familiar look of adoration in his eyes. He then approached her, slipped an arm around her shoulders as he pressed a lingering kiss into her temple, then said something softly into her ear before leaving the room.

Andrew was suddenly anxious to talk to his dad alone. He wanted to know more about the first woman his father had married. He had the pocket watch now; he was a man now. Slim a chance as it was, he thought his dad might actually tell him. "Justin," he said. "Wait here. I need to talk to my father. I'll be right back." He got up before he lost sight of his dad.

He should have guessed where his dad was going: out for a breath of fresh air on the back patio. He stood there, his palms resting on the cool marble banister, looking up into the evening sky, which was still shaded with the pink and purple tones of sunset.

Andrew came up to stand beside his father, who glanced over to him then back to the sky. "I love your Granny Pam," he said at last, "but even after all this time I can only take her a little bit at a time."

Andrew snickered. He knew exactly what his father meant.

"You had a nice day, I trust?"

"Oh, yes. The very best. And Justin did too. He's almost a little overwhelmed."

He heard his father chuckle.

Andrew was so nervous about asking that he felt his heart thumping in his chest. It was now or never. "Dad," he began tentatively, "may I ask you a question?"

"Absolutely, son."

"I know you probably don't like talking about this," he said, "but I'm older now and I'd really like to know." He took a deep breath, looking to his father. "About… your first wife."

If his father had a reaction, it was not something Andrew could discern. "You're right," said his father after a few moments. "I don't like to talk about it." He then looked at Andrew to meet his son's eyes. "But it's my role as your father to teach you, to guide you to not to make the mistakes I've made, at least to the best of my ability. And you are, as you said, older now."

Andrew couldn't believe his ears.

His father sighed, collecting his thoughts. "We had gotten together, had gotten married, for all of the wrong reasons. I felt I was getting past the age where I'd ever find, if you'll pardon the sappy term, a soul mate. I thought about it more in business terms, a compatible match, a successful merger. Which was very much a mistake.

"One day not long after we'd gotten married, I came home from work early—it was Christmas, actually; it appals me now to think of working on Christmas—and found—" He cleared his throat. "—found that she was… being unfaithful to me. In our own house. With my best mate from Cambridge. The man who was my best man two weeks' prior."

Andrew felt his mouth drop open of its own accord. "Are you serious?"

His father nodded. "I learned a very hard-won lesson. If you marry for anything but love, you're setting yourself up for pain and heartache."

"Wow." Andrew leaned hard on the marble banister. "It's a wonder you ever tried again."

"I was not so inclined, to be honest," Dad said, looking out into the dusk once more. "I hardened my defences even more than usual. And then—" His voice softened as he said, "Then I met Bridget." He quickly added, "Your mother."

Andrew laughed lightly. "I knew who you meant."

Fully engaged now in reminiscing, his father continued. "We played together as children, though I hardly remembered that at the time. Your grannies and Aunt Una were conspiring fiercely to make a match between us. It was New Year's Day, and I was already predisposed to a bad mood because of the anniversary of… well, I think you know, but being so indignant at the effort they were making I was, I'm afraid, more surly than usual." Andrew chuckled again. "Then your mum shows up, we're introduced…. The thing I remember most about that day, aside from how terribly we were both dressed, is how _not_ impressed she was with me. It was humbling, especially because so many women—like my first wife—would throw themselves at me in a most outrageous manner simply because of my status and money."

Andrew never thought of his father as anything but his father; he struggled to reconcile the man he knew with a man needing to fend off hordes of women. He wondered how his expression must have changed, because his father started to heartily chuckle. "I think you must have the wrong idea, Andrew," he said. "I rarely dated after the divorce, but I had been seeing someone when I met Bridget. It became very apparent the better I got to know her that the woman I'd been seeing was no different than the others. Which is exactly why I gave up taking a job in New York City—Bridget was special. I realised that she'd managed to get past all of those defences, that I loved her and couldn't leave. I have never once regretted that decision."

Andrew found himself grinning madly. He loved this level of confidence he'd been brought into, loved hearing of his parents' history, loved knowing how truly they loved one another. "So how long had you been dating her when you turned down the job?"

Dad's mouth curled into a little smile. "We, um, hadn't been dating yet."

Andrew was confused. "So you turned down a job just on the off-chance…?"

Dad laughed again. "You might say that. Thankfully when I went to see her, she felt the same way about me, and that is, I'm afraid, all the detail you're going to get about that particular night." His father put his hand on Andrew's shoulder. "It was a bumpy road at first, but we managed to come out the other side relatively unscathed… and it was all worth it because she made me a better man in the process. There's no one else I can imagine having spent my life with." He smiled. "Does that answer your question?"

"More than answered it… but yes, thanks."

His father cleared his throat, and sounded paternal again when he spoke. "Good. Now we ought to get back inside before we're missed," he said, then added in a conspiratorial tone, "before Granny Pam decides we've gone missing and sets the local constabulary into motion."

Andrew chuckled. "Yeah."

They heard the soft sound of the patio door swing open then closed again, and simultaneously they turned to see Bridget. She looked fairly distraught as she came forward towards her husband.

Dad gathered her in his arms. "Darling, what's the matter?"

"My mother is the most embarrassing woman in existence," she said, then turned to Andrew. "She caught your friend talking to Grandpa Colin, and is now regaling Justin with paddling pool stories. _My_ paddling pool stories."

Father and son locked eyes as she leaned against Mark's shirt, and both were obviously fighting a laugh. Mum continued, "Why must she do this? Why do I let her? I'm a grown woman…"

"It's all right," said Andrew, wrapping his arms across his mum's back, and hugging her too. He felt his father's hand on the top of his head, patting gently before moving to his shoulder.

"All you need," said Dad softly, "is a little comfort from your boys."

She made a contented sound, and it made Andrew smile to hear it.

Maybe it was the evening sky, the stars just emerging against the dark of the night, the romantic story he'd just been told, or a combination of all of those things, but Andrew suddenly felt the urge to go back indoors and leave his mum and dad to have a moment alone. "I think, though," he said after some quiet moments in this familial embrace, "that I'd better go and rescue Justin before Granny Pam moves on to _my_ paddling pool stories, and I know she carries photos in her purse."

Both of his parents chuckled as his dad let go of him, as he let go of his mum, and he and his father shared a meaningful look as he stepped back, she still secure in his arms. He saw his father mouth the words _thank you_ as Andrew retreated back into the house.

………

The remainder of that summer seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye. One thing was plain to Justin: Drew's parents always made time for him, evident in the excursions to Stonehenge and Stratford (where Justin met perennial bachelor Uncle Hugh, whom Drew jokingly assured in private that he did not in fact have boyfriends), as well as to destinations within London itself, like to see a stage production, or to visit Auntie Tom again or see Auntie Shazzer and Auntie Jude. Justin liked them both, too, and with children close to their own ages, visits with either of them were always fun.

It might have been uncool to say so, but Justin even enjoyed spending time in Drew's parents' company. Though they were friendly and approachable, and though they talked to the boys like they were men and not children, they always retained their position of authority as parents. What was nicer to see even still was that after being together for so long, they still showered each another with affection, were still so obviously in love.

As the date of departure back to Eton approached, Justin started to feel a little depressed. Drew looked kind of down, too, even though they both very much looked forward to the challenges of the new year, their second to last. The whole of the summer had proven to be an eye-opening experience. He hoped he'd be asked to join Drew again for future holidays. The thought of going home to his own dull house and indifferent parents was almost more than he could bear; the contact with them he'd had over this holiday had always been initiated by him.

"Drew," asked Justin as they lay in their beds the night before their departure back to Eton, "you still up?"

"Yeah," came the reply from across the room.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

Justin laughed. "Har, har. No, seriously, though. Do your parents always—" He stopped short, not sure exactly how to ask.

"Always what?"

"Always, I dunno, treat you like this? What I mean is, they weren't just being extra-nice to us because you have a guest, were they?"

Drew was silent there in the dark for a few. "No," said Drew. "I mean, yes. Yes, they're always like this, and no, it wasn't special treatment."

"Ah." He watched the lights from a passing car trail across the ceiling before he continued. "It really was the best summer I ever had. It was like… I finally got to know what it was like to have a brother."

"Yeah," said Drew. "Me too."

………

It was similar to a scene that had played out three times before, mother and son parting before his departure back to school. It was Andrew who had suggested to his father that Edmund drive himself and Justin back to Eton, as it was hard enough on her anyway to have to leave him there. "That way," he'd said, "you can console Mum without needing to navigate the road at the same time."

His father nodded, and smiled. "Very clever, son."

So Dad and Justin had gone down to take the bags to the car, leaving him with his mother in his room to say their goodbyes. She tried to smile, but there was no mistaking the quiver in her lip. "Each year that passes," she said in a tremulous voice, "it should get easier… but it doesn't."

He offered her a smile, but felt a little emotional himself. "I know, mum."

"And pretty soon," she said, "you won't even be coming back for holidays, all grown-up, girlfriends and trips abroad…"

It was when the tears started dropping from her eyes that he strode forward and put his arms around her, holding her tight and close. "Being grown-up does not mean I won't need you, Mum."

He could feel her nodding, could hear her managing a rather strangled, "I know." After a few more moments, she added, "It doesn't mean I won't miss the little boy you were."

_I know_ , he thought, feeling a bit emotional himself. "You know," he said, hoping to lift her spirits, "I'm thought of as something of a freak at school for actually, you know, liking my parents."

It worked. She choked out a little laugh just as his father appeared at the door.

"Andrew," he said. "It's time to go."

He nodded, then looked down to his mother. 

"You should go," she said, forcing a smile, though her red, swollen eyes bespoke her true feelings.

He bent and kissed her on the cheek as he took her hands. "I'll call soon. I promise."

She nodded.

"I love you, Mum."

She hiccoughed a sob. "I love you so very much, darling Andy."

He squeezed her hands before releasing them and walking towards his father, who surprised him with a hug of his own. "I love you too, son," he said in a surprisingly thick voice. "We'll talk to you soon."

"By video," Andrew reminded.

"By video," Dad echoed, then added quietly, "Now you'd better go. I have work to do here."

With a smile, he nodded, glancing back to his mum before leaving the room. He hadn't taken but a few steps when he heard her beginning to cry in earnest; it tore him apart to hear his mother in such distress, but it helped to know that his dad's 'work' consisted of consoling her. He knew how tough it was on both of them, but they wanted the best for their son, even at the expense of their own feelings.

When he got to the car, Justin handed him a can of soda. "All ready to go?"

Andrew nodded. "All ready."

As the car departed the drive, Justin went on about how he had anxiously thanked his parents for allowing him to stay with them for the summer, what an excellent time he'd had… but Andrew hardly heard a word. 

He was too focused on watching his house disappear from sight.

_The end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Wikipedia page on The London Eye](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_Eye), and the [official page](https://www.londoneye.com/).
> 
> [...Wikipedia page on rugby](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rugby_football) and the [Eton Wall Game](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eton_Wall_Game). I'm not sure why I saved this link, but I must have had a reason, so here it is.
> 
> [The Grapes](http://thegrapes.co.uk/), a pub in London that was one of Dicken's haunts. I had a very good bowl of cream of salmon soup there, once.
> 
> Also, according to the Eton website, summer holiday went from roughly the first week in July to the last week in August. I can't link directly to it because the calendar has, unsurprisingly, advanced.


End file.
